


Crime and Pun-ishment

by the_random_writer



Category: Cut & Run - Madeleine Urban & Abigail Roux
Genre: Arguing, Awkward Boners, Bad Jokes, Bad Puns, Car Accidents, Gen, Rain, Snark, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 21:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: Zane finds an amusing way to pass the time while they're stuck in a traffic jam. Ty is Not Amused.





	Crime and Pun-ishment

The passenger door of the car flew open; Ty instinctively reached for his gun. He relaxed as he saw it was only Zane, returning from his fact-finding mission.

The Texan dropped back into his seat, pulled the car door shut behind him, brushed some raindrops away from his shoulders and shook the moisture out of his hair. He'd only been gone for a couple of minutes, but given the way it was coming down, it was hardly surprising he'd gotten so wet.

Not that Ty objected, of course. Slightly moist was one of his husband's sexier looks, especially when he grew out his hair long enough for his curls to come in. Just a pity about the beard. And just a pity the moisture in question had come from the inclement weather, instead of a bath or a shower.

_Get your mind out of the gutter, marine_ , Ty sternly ordered himself. _There'll be plenty of time to get him all wet and slowly dry him off again later. You do anything frisky or naughty out here, you'll be one of the leading headlines at six._

"You find out what the hell's going on?" he said to his rapidly-drying spouse.

Zane nodded. "Looks like someone badly misjudged the merge from the ramp, ran into a truck, spun out in the rain, took out two other cars on the way. It's a hell of a mess, so we won't be moving anytime soon."

Ty swore under his breath. So much for getting home for the start of the game. "The cops here yet?"

Another nod. "Fire and EMS as well. But everyone looks fairly relaxed considering it's an accident scene, so I don't think anyone's too badly hurt."

"That's something to be glad of, I guess."

"A guy near the front told me one of the cops had told him they were gonna open the outside lane as soon as they've taken the photos they need, but he didn't know how long that would be."

Ty sighed. "Good thing we both went to the john before we left." He rolled his head around on his neck, wincing as something crackled and popped, then closed his eyes and tried to relax.

'Tried' being the operative word.

His paltry attempts at meditation lasted for barely a couple of minutes. Huffing loudly, he sat up straight and laid his hands on the leather-clad wheel. A few seconds later, his right knee started to twitch and bounce.

"You want me to put some music on?" Zane suggested, no doubt sensing his restless mood.

Ty briefly shook his head.

"What about the radio, then? They do the traffic segment in ten. They might know more about what's going on."

“We already know what’s going on,” Ty replied in a crabby tone. "We're stuck in a jam on the 895, probably for at _least_ the next hour.”

Zane fell silent, then let out a snort.

Ty frowned. "What's so funny?" he asked.

This time, the Texan smiled. "This whole thing just made me remember a really good insult someone once told me."

"Oh, yeah?" Ty said, his interest piqued. He was always up for learning new ways of causing offense, the meaner, ruder and smarter, the better. "What insult was that?"

"You say to the other person, 'You must have been born on the highway, because that's where most accidents happen.'"

Ty snickered. "That's pretty good," he acknowledged. "Not the best insult I've ever heard, but certainly not the lamest one, either."

"What _is_ the best insult you've ever heard?" Zane asked.

"Guess that depends on your definition of 'best'."

"If you're the one who's saying it, doll, 'best' probably means whatever's most likely to make the other guy want to shoot you."

Ty snickered again. "There is that, yeah."

"So?"

"So, what?"

Zane rolled his eyes. "So what insult would you use if you were trying to make someone want to shoot you?" he asked in a tone that made it clear he was quickly approaching that point himself.

Ty frowned, thinking hard. Zane might as well be asking him which condom he'd liked wearing the most. He'd gone through so many over the years, some fancier and more effective than others, so didn't quite know where to begin. What was that insult Liam had been so fond of again? He smiled as it popped into his head. "If I was trying to insult a guy, I'd say, 'You'll never be half the man your mother is.'"

Zane winced. "Oh, man. That's kinda harsh."

"But _very_ effective, especially when they're a mama's boy." Which he himself absolutely, _totally_ wasn't, regardless of what the rest of Sidewinder thought. Liam was a different story. He didn't know all of the relevant facts, but there were _definitely_ some Freudian issues in the Englishman's family tree...

"Where'd you hear it?" Zane asked.

"Was something Liam used to say."

His husband's expression instantly soured. "Oh."

"You don't like him, but he's one of the best insulters I've ever met. You wouldn't _believe_ some of the things he used to come out with."

"It's the accent that does it. Makes him sound way more impressive than he actually is. You give him a Brooklyn accent instead, he'll be no better at it than you or me."

"Maybe, yeah."

Zane was thoughtful for a few moments, then said, "You said you'd use that line on a guy. What if you were insulting a woman?"

"Not sure," Ty truthfully said. "Gotta be careful when you're shouting at chicks. You don't want to say the wrong thing and end up labelled as a male chauvinist pig."

"What, like calling them chicks instead of women?"

Now it was Ty who rolled his eyes. "Well, excuse the fuck out of me, Mister Sensitive Farmer's Market Guy. You want me to write you a nice, long essay about how problematic I am?"

"Meow Mix, I've been married to you for almost four years. I know _exactly_ how problematic you are."

"So what's your point?"

"My point is, you wouldn't call your mother a chick."

"Course I wouldn't. My old man would kick my ass to Georgia and back if I so much as thought about it."

Zane nodded. "Because he wants you to show respect to your mom."

"Yeah, and?"

"Wouldn't he want you to show respect to other women as well?"

Ty shrugged. "Dunno. Guess it depends on the woman."

"But in general, your parents raised you to be respectful."

"Yeah?"

He didn't mention they'd also taught him that respect sometimes had to be earned instead of automatically given. They wouldn't lose a whole lot of sleep if they found out he'd been less than polite to some Lexus-owning, Ivy League lawyer, or someone in a government role.

"So you shouldn't refer to women as chicks. It's immature and kinda demeaning."

"So am I."

Zane grunted and turned away, muttering something under his breath.

"Okay, so what's _your_ answer, then?" Ty wanted to know. "What responsible, non-demeaning insult would you use on a ch—on a woman?"

"Hmm," Zane said, drumming his fingers on the side of the door. "Tricky one, that. Like you said, it depends on the woman."

"Let's make it easier, then. Who's the nastiest woman you've _ever_ met, and what would you say to piss her off?"

"Gimme a minute. I still need to think."

Ty had his own answer already. He knew _exactly_ who that woman was, and he remembered all of the insults he'd actually used. "I'd say, 'If you were on life support, I'd unplug you to recharge my phone.'"

Zane snorted. "That one's a keeper."

Another good one came to mind. "Or how about 'I'd like to see things from your point of view, but I can't get my head that far up my ass.'"

"You ever use that?"

Ty nodded and grinned. "Back in New York, on Serena."

"How'd she take it?"

"She threw a granite paperweight at me."

Zane's eyebrows shot up into his curls. "Did it hit you?"

"Course it fucking didn't. You think you survive ten years in the Corps without knowing when to duck?"

"What happened to the paperweight, then?"

"It went through the plate glass window behind me."

"Ouch."

"Yup."

Zane peered out into the rain, his lips forming a thoughtful smile. "Becky and I used to fake insult each other all the time. She usually won, though. She was much better at it than me."

"That's not very hard."

Now _there_ was a line Ty rarely needed to say…

"You saying I don't know how to insult people?" Zane protested.

"Not in so many words, no."

"Then what the fuck did that comment mean?"

"I'm saying your brain works at a more cerebral level than mine," Ty explained. "And I'm guessing at a more cerebral level than Becky's as well."

"Cerebral?" Zane repeated.

"Cerebral," Ty confirmed with a nod. "I'm the person who insults a guy by saying I fucked their mom in the ass. You're the person who insults a guy by saying you refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent."

"I _love_ that line. What the hell's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, if you're a fucking nerd."

Zane sniffed and turned away. "I'd rather be a nerd than a grunt."

"Who the fuck are you calling a grunt?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that word too _cerebral_ for you?" his husband mockingly asked. "Does it have too many syllables in it for your imbecilic brain to grasp?"

Ty let out a desperate groan. "Jesus, Garrett, you see what I mean? Who the fuck in their right mind ever calls people 'imbecilic'?"

"You tell me," Zane quickly shot back. "Pretty sure all your family doctors have been saying it to or about you since you were born."

"Funny."

Zane shrugged. "My mother always said laughter was the best medicine."

"That probably explains why so many members of your family have died of scurvy or tuberculosis."

Plus, he had a really hard time imagining Beverly doing anything as pleasant as laughing.

"Speaking of medicine," Zane began.

Inside his head, Ty's warning bells started to chime.

"Did you hear about the guy who was admitted to hospital with twelve toy horses in his stomach?"

Ty examined his husband's expression, looking for hints of a Garrett-sized trap. "What about him?" he cautiously asked.

Zane's smile confirmed his suspicions. "They just changed his condition to stable."

"Lone Star, I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to convey how I feel about you right now."

"That's funny, because if memory serves, it was only last night you told me you loved me."

"You keep telling me crappy puns, you're gonna force me to take it all back."

"What if I tell you a crappy poem instead?"

"What if I kick you out of the car and make you walk the rest of the way?"

His husband continued, warning unheeded. "Roses are red, violets are blue, God made me smart, but what about you?"

"You might be smart, but you're gonna be really lonely as well. You keep that up, your hand'll be the only thing that touches your dick for the rest of the month."

"Whatever you say, babe. You're the boss."

"Least you already know what vision loss feels like," Ty snarkily pointed out. "When you go blind from abusing your meat, it won't be quite as much of a shock."

"Funny you should mention that," his husband declared in a serious tone.

"Mention what?"

"Going blind."

"Why's that?"

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you."

"What?" Ty asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Zane had gone for an eye exam last week—had it found something he wouldn’t like?

"Apparently, if a blind woman tells you you have a really big dick, she's probably just pulling your leg."

Ty groaned and slumped forward, resting his forehead on the wheel. From his slouched position, he said, "Garrett, I don't care how good you are in the sack, you keep telling me terrible puns, the only way you'll get laid anytime soon is if you crawl up a chicken's ass and wait."

"That reminds me of another good joke."

Ty sat up and speared his husband with a malevolent glare. "When they're your jokes, hoss, they're _never_ good."

Zane continued, completely unfazed. "What's the difference between me and a brick?" he asked.

"I don't know, Zane, what's the difference between you and a brick?"

"The brick'll eventually get laid."

Ty squeezed his eyes shut. "One million sperm, and _you_ were the fastest?" he complained.

"C'mon, Grady, up your game. I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and crap out a better comeback than that."

Ty leaned over to wrestle his iPhone out of his pocket.

"Who are you calling?" Zane asked.

"I know an ex-Army guy in Phoenix who kills people for five grand in cash," Ty calmly explained. "I'm checking the balance of my account and sending him your name and address."

"How does he do it? The killing bit?"

"The fuck does it matter, hoss? You’re gonna be dead."

Zane shrugged. "I've always been able to rely on the kindness of stranglers."

Ty groaned again. "I can't believe I actually told you I loved you. What the hell was I thinking?"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, doll. We both know I'm the thinker in the marriage. You're just here to smile and look hot."

"Says the man who couldn't hit water if he fell out of a boat."

"Speaking of water, did you know that novice pirates make really terrible singers?"

Ty declined to grace his husband's question with a response.

"They can't hit the high seas."

"If I throw a stick, will you go away?"

"I could tell you a joke about leeches instead."

Ty held up a protesting hand. He already knew _exactly_ where this one was going. "Don't," he warned. "Just don't, okay?"

Zane being Zane, did. "But they all suck."

Ty leaned over his husband's lap to yank the handle on the passenger door. He could put up with a lot of shit, but he wasn't going to sit in a car and listen to a grown-ass man tell him jokes his sensible, four-year-old niece wouldn't touch.

The door didn't budge. Damn it. His fucker of a husband had locked it.

Zane grinned, tutted and made a show of shaking his head. "Safety first, Agent Grady. Always lock your car door behind you."

"Lone Star, the only safety I'm thinking about is the one on my fucking gun," Ty said through gritted teeth, nodding towards the glove compartment.

Zane huffed. "A half-dozen insults and jokes, and you're already saying you want to shoot me. So much for our wedding vows."

"I said I would never leave you alone in the dark," Ty pointed out as he returned to his seat. "I never said _anything_ about not shooting you in the ass."

"Speaking of asses, you should probably know I accidentally swallowed some Scrabble tiles this morning. My next crap could spell disaster."

Ty raised a warning finger. "One more fucking word out of you and I'm gonna start breaking some _serious_ bones."

Somewhere nearby, sirens wailed.

"Must be another EMS unit," Ty said, looking for the flashing blue lights. "They'll have a hell of a time getting through to the scene."

Zane shook his head. "That's a police car siren."

Sure enough, a few seconds later, a cop car sped along a parallel road, heading off to respond to a threat.

"Hope it's not another accident further up," Ty said.

"He's probably on his way to the daycare."

Ty turned in his seat and gave his husband a quizzical look. "Why the _fuck_ would a daycare have to call in the cops?"

"To deal with the three year old."

"What three year old?"

Zane's lips twitched. "The one who's resisting a rest."

Right. That was _it_. He was absolutely, _totally_ done.

Ty switched off the engine, pulled out the key, unclicked his belt and stepped out into the pouring rain, violently slamming the door as he went.

He heard the whine of a power window behind him, then his husband's voice calmly said, "C'mon, Meow Mix, you stand out there, you're gonna get soaked. So put your lower lip away and get back in the goddamn car."

"I'm not getting back in the car until you promise to stop telling me puns."

"Jesus, Grady, they're not _that_ bad."

"Puns are like farts, Zane. They never seem bad when you're the one who's letting them out."

"Not sure I agree with your theory there, doll. I've smelled my own farts, and even _I_ think they're verging on being a chemical weapon."

"Trust me, babe, your shitty puns are just as unpleasant."

Zane waved a dismissive hand. "You say that, doll, but you _know_ you love 'em. So get back in the goddamn car before your sorry ass catches its death."

"Think I'd rather die of a raging case of bronchitis than listen to more of your shitty jokes."

In his seat on the other side of the car, Zane gave an unfeeling shrug. "You're a big boy, Meow Mix. Suit yourself."

The window slowly but surely rolled up.

Five seconds later, Ty heard something inside the Mustang clunk. He spun around and pulled at the door. It didn't budge—his treasonous fucker of a husband had set the driver-side lock as well.

God fucking damn it. Never mind the ex-Army hitman in Phoenix; he was damn well going to skin and gut his partner himself.

Ty leered in the misted-up window, giving Zane his evilest and most threatening stare. He moved away just far enough to gesture from his eyes to his spouse, then drew a finger across his throat and formed his right hand into a fist.

Zane was obviously unimpressed—he flashed a shit-eating grin and waved.

Two minutes later, the window slowly rolled down again.

"You look like you're _really_ wet," his other half said, making it sound like a line from a bad porno movie.

"I'm fine," Ty lied. In truth, he was almost soaked to the skin.

"You remember how pissed you got ten minutes ago when I said I was the thinker in the marriage but your job was to smile and look hot?"

"Yeah?"

"Because you think you're just as clever as me?"

"Course I'm just as clever as you! Jesus, Garrett, you only did a _Statistics_ degree. You're not about to give Einstein or Hawking a run for their money."

"You _sure_ you're smart?"

"Texas, the only thing I'm more sure of right now is how painful your death is gonna be."

Zane gave him a sombre nod, as if the warning was sinking in. "So this would probably be a bad time to point out that when you got out of the car, you took the goddamn car keys with you?"

Ty mentally kicked himself in the ass, then just for good measure, gave himself a hefty kick in the balls as well. "I knew that," he defensively said, taking the keychain out of his pocket and pressing the button to unlock the doors.

He pulled at the handle and slid back in. "Did you insult Becky this badly as well?" Ty asked as he shook the water out of his hair. "Or should I consider myself particularly blessed?"

To Ty's relief, Zane's face broke into a smile. "I wasn’t _quite_ as hard on her as I am on you, but only because I was younger then, so my insults weren't quite as refined."

"How'd she respond?"

"She either swore, laughed or gave just as good as she got."

"She never threatened to shoot you or cut off your balls?"

Zane shook his head. "She always believed resorting to violence was a sign of a lack of brains."

"Great," Ty muttered. "Now your late wife's insulting me as well."

"To be fair, doll, it’s _ridiculously_ easy to insult you. There's an absolute wealth of raw material to work with. A West Virginian, ex-marine with OCD who loves cats and plays for both teams? Where the fuck do I even begin?"

The threats of violence hadn't worked, so perhaps it was time to take a page out of Becky's book. "Save your breath, Garrett," Ty calmly shot back. "You're gonna need it later to blow up your date."

"I'd be fine with a blow-up doll. At least he or she won't steal all the covers."

"You won't have to worry about me stealing the covers, either."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Sex ban, remember? You'll be sleeping in the bedroom upstairs."

"That threat might worry me more if there was even the _slightest_ chance of you seeing it through."

Ty shook his head. "Nuh uh. This time, I swear I'm gonna make it stick. You're gonna come crawling back to me on your knees." _Just how I like you_ , he almost said.

"Grady, what language is that you're speaking?" Zane asked. "Because it sounds like fucking bullshit to me."

"I'm serious, Garrett. Soon as we're home, the sex ban is on. _And_ the psychological war as well. You won't be able to pick up anything in the house without wondering if it's been in my mouth or my ass."

"What, like my dick?"

Ty bit his lip to smother his snort. When he was sure he could speak without laughing, he said, "It's times like this that make me wonder if your parents threw out the baby and kept the placenta."

Zane didn't quite manage to cover his grin. "Says the man who couldn't pour water out of a boot if the instructions were engraved on the heel."

Ty coughed and shifted around in his seat, aware of the fact his lower half was, for some reason, having another, far less civil reaction.

A movement which didn't escape his eagle-eyed husband's attention. "You okay there, doll?" the Texan asked.

Ty nodded curtly. "Course I am. Legs are feeling restless, is all."

Zane flashed mischievous brows. "You sure that's all that's feeling restless right now?"

"Yeah," Ty lied.

"You sure you don't need me to go stand out in the rain again?" his husband suggested in a seductive tone. "Get myself all good and wet?"

Ty shifted position again and just about managed not to groan. "You're a sadistic fucker, Garrett."

With a sinful smile on his handsome face, Zane leaned over to slide a hand between his legs. "Let's go home and have sex so amazing even the guys at the end of the row will need a cigarette when we're done."

"Would love to help, but in case you haven't noticed, we're not going anywhere anytime soon," Ty replied, gesturing at the jam up ahead.

As if the universe had been listening, the car in front of them started to trundle away.

"What the fuck are you waiting for, a hand-written invitation?" the Texan complained, gesturing at the widening space. "Get your ass and this car in gear. You want to sit on this highway all night when I have a perfectly good dick you could be sitting on instead?"

"Jesus, Lone Star, could you at least _try_ to be smooth?"

Zane gave him a disapproving stare. "You want smooth, or you want me to fuck you into next week?"

"Uh, I think I'll take 'fuck you into next week' for a thousand, please, Alex?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. So why don't you turn the ignition on, put your goddamn foot on the gas and get us home as soon as you can?"


End file.
